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ChapterNineteen
Chris
The falling-for-yousstill echoed in my head right through from yesterday, and I had a constant grin on my face because I couldn’t forget the kiss, or his bright smile, or the way he murmured the words.
I was falling in love.
Chris Sheridan was falling in love.
I felt like shouting the news to the world! To the post-accident Chris who didn’t want to see another day, to the Chris who’d seen his friends and family fall in love, to the Chris who’d thought the diner was being broken into.
I never imagined, for one minute, I’d fall so hard, and so fast, for Noah, but he was it for me, and I could imagine things with him, a future, vacations, making love, going to Fox’s graduation, asking Noah to marry me.
Hell, I wanted everything, and so the smile never left.
The morning sun was wispy over the frosty Collier Springs High School baseball field, where the team gathered for their first Saturday practice. At least, the snow had eased enough to give us a mostly clear field, but that didn’t mean snow in Wyoming was over—this was February, and we were right in the middle of storms coming our way. I leaned against the fence—my go-to position—gaze fixed on Fox, who was trying out today, enjoying the weak sunshine and ignoring my icy cold extremities. I’d kept everyone in tight, getting them to keep warm, jogging on the spot, but maybe, this would have to move indoors if the promised snow fell soon. The mountain sheltered us from the worst of the snow, thank god.
“What’s wrong with you?" Melanie asked. She wasn’t only my assistant coach but the parent of one of the seniors.
I glanced at her, tried to drop the smile, but couldn’t. “Nothing.”
“You have a thing…” She waved to her own mouth. “A smiling thing.”
“It’s baseball practice. It’s not cold enough to freeze solid, and yeah, I’m excited.”
“For the season?”
“Sure.”
“We weren’t that good last year.” She was being diplomatic. In our local league of eight teams, we’d come in sixth.
“At least, we weren’t last, and anyway, this year is our year,” I said, because if I could deserve the love of someone like Noah, whom I loved right back, then anything was possible.
“You think the new kid will turn it around?”
I glanced at Fox, waiting with the rest to start.
“Who knows,” I said, then blew my whistle to begin.
It was soon apparent that Fox stood out among the other fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds we had playing, not because he was new, but because he seemed almost too careful with his plays, showed flashes of real skill, and then dialed it down. Why was he holding back? I watched him as a catcher, noticing how he fumbled a few catches, and a small part of me wondered if it was deliberate, a tactic to underplay his skills. Iknewbaseball, and Iknewhe was better than he was letting on.
As the practice progressed, Fox’s natural talent couldn’t be contained. He found his stride, his movements becoming more fluid and confident. It was clear he was an excellent player. I watched the team go through their drills, trying to focus on the practice. But my attention kept drifting to the stands where I wished Noah had been, although I knew why he wasn’t in among the parents-in-watching-their-kids-seriously mode—after all he had a diner to run. Still, I couldn’t help the flutter of longing in my stomach every time I glanced over to the parents.
It was complicated, feeling that way about Noah—missing him that bad. As a coach, I was there for the team, for the game. But there was this undeniable pull towards thinking about Noah, a curiosity, an attraction that I couldn’t quite shake off.
Last night, I had wanted to make a good impression and be a gentleman after we’d admitted we wanted more. Only, said good intention had lasted less time than getting to dessert. The sounds Noah made, the hitch of his breath as he came, the pleading for more as he got there, was something I’d remember for the rest of my life.
I wanted to make him lose control every day, forever, and it was silly to miss him this morning, I knew, but I couldn’t help it.
But then I caught myself. This morning wasn’t about me or my feelings for Noah. It was about the kids, the game. I took a deep breath, refocusing on the practice, reminding myself why I was there. I couldn’t let personal feelings interfere with my role as a coach. Still, in the back of my mind, Noah’s absence was a constant, subtle distraction that I struggled to ignore.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Melanie said.
I nodded, keeping my eyes on Fox. “Yeah, he is. We’re short a catcher since Matt moved. Fox could fill that spot perfectly.”
Melanie hummed in agreement, her eyes following the play. “It’s always helpful to have fresh talent, and he’s clearly played at this level.”
His transcripts had him as assistant captain to the Grovewood Tigers—his old school’s team—with an impressive record last season. It was clear he had his papa’s genes, although Briggs Lewiston was a flashy pitcher—had been a flashy pitcher—and Fox was more comfortable controlling the plays as a catcher. I wondered how that made him feel. Did he resent the quieter, but equally important, role? Fox had an ease about him, a natural affinity with the game that was hard to miss. I couldn’t help but agree with Melanie that maybe it was time to make it official, to bring him into the fold, so the rest of the team could get used to him. Fox’s presence had already brought a new energy to the practice, some of the team eyeing him with hope—after all, we weren’t a winning side, and they’d take anything that might get us out of a rut—others whispering behind their hands about him.
